


Everything I Didn't Say

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, MCU Bingo, Prompt: Vulnerability, ft. appearances from the Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 08:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15506355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: When Bobbi and Hunter are formally disowned by SHIELD, Fitz never got to say goodbye. He never got to say something else either, but as it turns out, he might get a second chance after all.





	Everything I Didn't Say

**Author's Note:**

> written for @mockingbirdie on Tumblr, and for my ["FitzHunter >> Vulnerability"](https://mcubingo.tumblr.com) square. I am still taking prompts but will be focusing on those that fill my [bingo cards](http://theclaravoyant.tumblr.com/post/174958815476/prompt-me-mcubingo-edition).
> 
> The title for this fic comes from [Everything I Didn't Say by 5 Seconds of Summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLKnoN0g7Mc). This was one of a number of songs that inspired this fic, see also Bright by Echosmith.
> 
> Rated T. Angst with a Happy Ending, there's a surprising amount of fluff in here I promise.

When Coulson returned to the ship alone, Fitz felt his heart sink. Lower and lower it slipped as he took in Coulson’s sullen expression, Daisy’s quiet defeat, and the way that Jemma - who was more prone to optimism than he was, and far less so to melodrama - reached for his hand. Bobbi and Hunter were not coming back, that much was obvious, and though he wanted to think them all lucky they had not been touched by death, all Fitz could think about was what he had lost. Friends. Chances. 

“I never got to tell him -” 

“Without even a goodbye?” 

Fitz had never been sure what the end of his sentence was going to be, so he latched onto that. He and Jemma were always on the same wavelength after all, right? And of course, it was partly true, it was part what he felt, it was part of what he wanted to say, for all the good it would do. Just as it was, the grief was real. Bobbi and Hunter had come into his life at a traumatic, tumultuous time, and - together, of course, with Mack - they had shown him how to take back his life from the jaws of trauma, loss, and near-death. Hunter had taught him not to be ashamed of himself, even if it meant being a stubborn ass sometimes, and Bobbi had reminded him of just how strong he had been, and could be again. They were dear, dear friends and trusted teammates and he would have given his life for them or put himself in their places in a heartbeat. But the violent absence of a goodbye was not the only frayed end he felt was left untied.

Even he could not see it at first, but slowly it came to him as the silent, weighted air on the flight back gave him all too much time to think. And of course he thought about Bobbi and her sharp wit and her patience and her enthusiasm for long rants about Star Wars and her courage in facing everything she had hated about herself - everything that made her feel weak or insecure, everything that made her doubt every decision she’d ever made - and get up again in the morning. And of course he thought about Hunter and his at times blunt honesty, and his fierce readiness to defend his friends against any threat - real or imagined, verbal or physical - and his strange, unexpected brand of sensitivity. Fitz had never expected a man so full of brash and bravado to have as raw a heart as he did, but while he loved Bobbi dearly, he’d had a kindred spirit in Hunter that he doubted he would find anywhere else. 

He didn’t necessarily mean that in a romantic way, but once he started thinking about it he couldn’t stop. He wondered what it would be like to curl up a little closer when they watched movies together; to get close enough that they could keep each other warm. He wondered what it would be like to catch a stolen moment together at the end of a mission, just after a close call, a little breathless with relief and with the desire to kiss each other and in doing so, to taste and savour the preciousness of life. He wondered how many times he’d wondered about this before. 

And he wondered if what he’d wanted to say - to _him,_ not to _them,_ not to his friends, but to his… Hunter… 

He wondered if that had been goodbye after all. 

-

But of course it was too late to think about these things.

No matter what he had wanted to say, he could say none of it now, and so it all sat in his chest like a stone, heating in the fires of grief and outrage. Nobody seemed to expect him to speak and for that he was glad as he offered what solace he could to Jemma - who, he thought, must have found a similarly kindred spirit in Bobbi as he had in Hunter - and to Mack, who was taking this hard. How could he think about what might not even be love, Fitz thought, when his best friend’s best friends were gone? Mack had known Bobbi and Hunter longer than he had, maybe even longer and closer than any of them. What could he say to that? Except - 

“They deserved better.” 

Everyone was sitting around in a circle, in miserable silence, taking this opportunity to feel sorry for themselves and not much else. Fitz had his hand wrapped around a bottle of beer he’d barely touched, because it was the same brand Hunter had offered him once and welcomed his quest to get over Jemma. Well, screw getting over things, Fitz thought. It was overrated. 

“Hear hear,” Daisy agreed. 

“No, I mean it,” Fitz insisted. “This is bullshit. Bobbi and Hunter gave everything for us. All of Hunter’s friends are dead. Bobbi practically got ripped in half last year, and she’s come all this way, and- and they stood by Shield through all of it. Or Real Shield or whatever but they’re still here. They should still be here. They would have died for us and they did this for _us_ and they deserve _better_ than to be spat out in disgrace. They should be remembered. Properly.” 

He slammed his beer down on the table and stood, and though the others gave each other a couple of glances, they were not altogether unfamiliar with Fitz’s passionate outbursts, so when Fitz pointed at Coulson and demanded - “You! What are you going to remember about Hunter and Bobbi? What’s _really important?” -_ it didn’t take him long to stumble into something. It hurt to think about, especially since as Director he’d been trying so hard to cut himself off from relating and valuing his agents in this kind of individual, personal way. But Fitz was right. It was important, especially if the world could not know all that they had done. 

One by one they went around the circle everyone told tales of heroism, humour and heart, and Fitz drank it all up but it did not soothe the ache in his soul. It did not answer the questions in his mind. It was all too much about goodbye and not… the other thing. And so when it came to his turn Fitz found that the words stuck in his throat. He was so raw by this point that he’d expect something - something he hadn’t put the words to until now, or not even yet - to come tumbling out. Instead his lips quivered, and he became very, very, painfully conscious of exactly what it was he wanted to say. 

Bobbi would know, he was sure of it, and she’d encourage him to be brave. 

Hunter would tell him to say his piece, and let the pieces fall where they may. He didn’t owe it to anyone to silence himself, and it wouldn’t do any of them any good anyway. Besides, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, everyone’s hearts were as much on display as they’d ever be, and he couldn’t think of a better group to share it with. So, even though his hands shook and twisted together and even though his voice must have sounded like a baby bird creeping out onto the branch to take its first flight with the adults, he did. He said it.

“I… I think I loved him.” 

There were a few seconds of silence that followed, and somebody took a drink, and a few people shifted in their seats. They had to make sure they’d heard right, processed right. Because of course they had all loved Hunter, in their own ways, even May. But none of them had loved him in a way that felt like it had to be forced from one’s chest in a room full of grieving comrades, nor in a way that felt like a relief to admit in such circumstances. 

“Fitz?” Jemma pressed him, as gently as she could. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

Fitz blinked a couple times and wiped his eyes. The ball of rage was gone, and the hurt remained, but it was so much less complicated than before. He felt less alone. But it still didn’t bring Hunter back, or Bobbi, and so he sighed and swiped a hand through the air as if to knock his coming out aside.  
  
“I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway, does it?” he said.

Jemma stood, and crossed the space between them in two swift strides, and wrapped her arms around him so tightly he thought he might never have been more aware of his physical space on this Earth than he was in this moment. Except perhaps, a few seconds later, when Daisy joined in too. 

“Welcome to the party, bud,” she greeted. “It sucks. You’re gonna love it. Come here.” 

She piled on, and then Elena and Mack, and then Coulson, and even May stood. She looked over the huddle of her friends, her family, her students, her _team_ and she smiled. She’d never been one for group hugs, especially not since Bahrain, but the feeling of togetherness, of love, was solid and powerful and it hit her like a wave. 

“I think this calls for as stronger drink,” she said, and took the opportunity to sneak away and soak the feeling in for herself. 

- 

After that, life began as ever to move on. There was only so much feeling-sorry-for-themselves a group of agents living lives like theirs could do, and there was a distracting amount of world-saving constantly pressing for their attention. But Fitz did the best he could to let Mack know he had a shoulder to cry on, and sometimes Mack took him up on the offer. Sometimes they sat and fixed a bike and listened to Hunter and Bobbi’s taste in music, and sometimes Mack regaled all manner of stories when he felt like sharing, and when he didn’t, they would get together with Daisy and whoever else felt like it, and they would eat popcorn and pretzels and watch _Terminator_ and _Indiana Jones -_ and _Star Wars,_ of course, in Bobbi’s honour. All the classics. Fitz’s life began to move forward again in other aspects too, patching things up with Jemma and showing May the things he had learnt from Bobbi and Hunter and even, eventually, to experiment with bringing romance into his life. He never found someone on quite the same level as Hunter - except maybe Jemma, but they weren’t _there yet_ and now they might never be. But they were close, and things were good, and as for Hunter, Fitz had moved on. 

Of course he had, just in time for Hunter to come back. 

And it wasn’t that Fitz wasn’t glad to have him back, it was more like… he knew better. He knew better than to re-open that door. He knew better than to trust the universe. He also knew better than to believe that someone out there was personally targeting him, specifically, but when a robot built an entire universe for the sole purpose of getting him to comply with her will, and when this was followed by a team of aliens kidnapping everyone except for him, it got harder and harder to believe such a thing. So when it was Hunter who came to his rescue, Fitz reminded himself that he’d moved on. 

But moving on didn’t mean going back to the closet, and so every now and then he said or did something that got Hunter thinking. He made jokes he would have been too shy, to insecure to make before. He let his eyes linger on a whole different segment of the population Hunter had never known him to like before. He made obscure references to people’s personal lives that gave Hunter the impression he might have been on a few first dates. And most importantly, he picked up the bait Hunter lay down to test his theory without even realising it.

“That, uh, that Sam from Civil Mechanics,” he posited, one day, casual as anything, tossing Fitz’s Rubick’s cube over and over and not getting told off for it. 

“What about him?” Fitz asked, pretending to focus on his computer and not the fact that Hunter was touching his Rubick’s cube and not the fact that the tiny little cocky grin on his face as he did so was to tell Fitz that he’d caught him looking. 

“He’s nice, isn’t he?” Hunter teased. Fitz blushed furiously and his grip on the mouse tightened. He’d quite forgotten that he hadn’t officially come out to Hunter yet and thinking about having that conversation led him to thinking about how that conversation had come up and some very not-over-it feelings began to come up. He knew Hunter would continue to tease him but at least that was situation normal, so he played along as if he thought he could get away with it. 

“Yes, he’s very intelligent, and generous with his time-“

“I mean, he’s _nice.”_

“If you’re into that sort of thing.” 

“Which you are.”

Fitz cleared his throat. What he was _into_ right at that moment was kissing that smug bastard’s face and letting everything he’d ever felt come flooding out. All the close calls, all the loneliness, all the aching existentialism, all the relief, all the magnetism, all the love, the love, the _love…_ It was more than nerves, more than irritation, more than hormones rushing through him right now but if he screwed this up he would never forgive himself. The lump was back in his throat and coughing wouldn’t clear it this time. 

“It’s not funny,” he snapped, but it was without heart, like he was reading lines. Stiffly, he ordered: “Leave me alone. And put that down.”

“… Okay.” 

Seeing that he had crossed some sort of line, Hunter slipped the Rubick’s cube back onto Fitz’s desk beside his elbow, and slunk away. After waiting an appropriate time for him to leave, Fitz braced his arms and stretched, and let out a heavy sigh. Why did feelings have to be so bloody complicated? 

- 

Hunter, meanwhile, was wandering the hallway in a daze. The initial confusion had worn off for the most part, but now his mind was piecing together a theory, a string of theories, about why Fitz might have been acting weird toward him. At least, that particular brand of weird. 

“Mack!” he cried, as soon as he saw the man, and herded him toward a side corridor. “MackMackMackMack. Mate. I need to talk to you.” 

“Sure, man, what’s up?” Mack looked Hunter up and down. There was a weird, frenetic energy about him that reminded him a little too much of Fitz when he got his cogs turning. Mack tilted his head, watching Hunter’s hands as he tried to figure it out. 

“You know Fitz, right?”

“Yeah.” _For longer than you have,_ Mack refrained from adding, _but alright._

“He likes guys, right? I mean _likes_ guys. I mean, wants to have intimate relations with the occasional guy. Right? I’m not just making this up? It’s not just in my head. Right?” 

“Yeah.” Mack shrugged, and glanced back into the hallway to check if anyone else was coming down to witness this bizarre display. Nobody seemed to have noticed so far. Or maybe they were just used to Coulson’s team getting up to inexplicable shit. That seemed more likely. Nevertheless, he returned his attention to Hunter to assure him; “Yeah, he came out ages ago, to the team anyway. It’s not really a big deal anymore. Why? Daisy’s already got him a shirt. She might even have one for you if you want.” He laughed, but Hunter’s energy didn’t seem to subside. In fact, if anything, the buzz in his veins levelled up.

“Cool. Cool.” Hunter nodded. “It’s just- he’s been acting weird, like he’s hiding something from me, and I’m not sure what it means.”

“Oh.” Mack frowned. “Well, uh, he’s been through a hell of a time these last few weeks. Go easy on him, okay?”

Hunter shook his head. “Not that kind of weird. Good weird. I think.” 

“You’ve lost me.” 

“This wasn’t about Framework shit or any of that,” Hunter clarified, “and he didn’t freak out when I let him know I was onto the fact that he liked guys. If it was a coming out thing - you know, generally - it would have been that that got to him, right?” 

“Right…” Mack nodded, still not entirely sure where Hunter was going with this. “What was it, then?”  


“It was when I implied somebody might be… what he wanted. He got all defensive and misty-eyed at the same time and then told me to go away, and bloody hell is that kid good at mixed signals, but it means something, right?”

_I think I…_

Mack pressed his lips together. This seemed like the kind of thing he shouldn’t get involved in. But then again, Fitz often missed the mark when it came to expressing his feelings and it wasn’t often that he had Hunter practically grovelling for information. If he’d learnt anything these last few weeks it’s that life was short - maybe shorter, even, than any of them would have liked to believe - and in the scheme of things he surely couldn’t be doing the universe _that_ much of a disservice to give two of his closest friends a little nudge toward each other. He was only levelling the playing field, after all; making sure Hunter had all the same information the rest of them did.

“About that,” he offered, and he couldn’t help smiling, especially not when Hunter smiled back. “There’s something you should know.” 

- 

Fitz tried to get back to work after that, he honestly did, but he had always been one to feel deeply and that door didn’t want to stay closed. He found his mind wandering, retelling old dreams and memories of dates, except with Hunter in the leading role opposite him. What if it had been Hunter he woke up next to, one late morning in an apartment in the sun? What if it had been Hunter he’d gone with to see something he’d already seen, and spend half the time watching Hunter smile and eat and cry and laugh? What if it had been Hunter, running down the long hallway, desperate to see him… to tell him… 

_Wait._  

There were real footsteps coming down the hall, fast and stumbling, unsteady. Fitz whipped around, hardly daring to hope it, let alone believe it, and Hunter held the doorframe as he turned himself into the lab and stumbled to a halt. He looked breathless, more from the excitement than anything else as it had ramped up his heart rate far faster than it should have. Fitz, feeling his own heart begin to thrum, could relate. But on his face Hunter wore a dopey, ecstatic grin, and Fitz could relate to that too. His jaw slackened. His eyes, his body, yearned for Hunter with a burning intensity that only came from having quashed those feelings for so long, from having denied that they even existed. Now they forced their way to the surface, to blossom and bloom and Fitz was helpless to do anything but feel them. 

Judging from the look on his face, and from the way he seemed to float, to gravitate across the room in much the same way Fitz was doing, Hunter felt the same.

Before they knew it, the two of them were standing feet apart, and staring, and wondering how they could have missed each other all this time. 

“Hi,” Hunter said, awestruck. 

“Hi,” Fitz replied, in a similar tone. 

And then, finally able to resist it no more, Hunter stepped into the space between them and cupped Fitz’s face in his hands, and kissed. 


End file.
